


Can't Take my Eyes Off of You

by siriussass



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: College AU, F/M, Fluff, James Potter - Freeform, Lily Evans - Freeform, M/M, Marauders, Muggle AU, Peter Pettigrew - Freeform, Remus x Sirius, Slow Burn, Slow Updates, University AU, coffee shop AU, i'll add more tags asp, remus lupin - Freeform, sirius black - Freeform, soft bois, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-02-15 05:17:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13024026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriussass/pseuds/siriussass
Summary: Sirius and Remus both religiously go to the same coffee shop, until one day Sirius speaks up.





	1. the one with the coffee shop

Remus Lupin likes books. Old books with dog-eared pages so thin the ink shows through in sunlight. He likes paper back copies of Penguin Classics and out-of-the-way armchairs in dimly lit coffee shops just far enough off campus that no one knows him. He likes coffee with cream and leaf-like patterns in the foam. He likes his thick knit jumper that overflows over his delicate torso, the colour of fresh autumn drizzle. He likes breathing against the glass of the window and drawing funny faces. He likes absentmindedly doodling swirls on his napkin as he reads. He likes highlighting in orange. He likes slipping his boots off and tucking his legs up into his chair. He likes the warmth when it’s cool, and the cool when it’s warm. He doesn’t like Sirius Black. 

Sirius Black likes a lot of things Remus doesn’t. Sirius drinks black coffee with three lumps of sugar. Sirius likes to sit with his feet on the table, shoes on. He likes listening to books on his tablet whilst he paints his nails, spilling the varnish carelessly, and he likes shamelessly wiping it on his worn, ripped jeans. He likes crunching scones loudly and tapping his fingers to a nonexistent rhythm. He likes his leather jacket and his long messy hair. Most importantly, he likes Remus. 

Both boys spent the majority of their day-lit downtime in the coffee shop. Remus liked the hazelnut tarts. Sirius liked the distance it was from his flat. Remus arrived at ten past two every weekday, and sat in the same seat, reading, until he left when the shop closed (at half five). He would be content for the first twenty minutes or so, until Sirius Black showed up, at half past. Remus was unaware of when he first noticed the boy, but was very much aware that after that undefined point, it was very difficult to un-notice him. 

Sirius would storm in at half past on the dot every day and order a double americano. He would sit in any free spot, and stir in the (quite frankly ridiculous) amount of sugar into his drink. When he was content, he’d slurp it rather ungracefully, and stick his headphones in. Remus found this incredibly distracting. He was distracted by the tapping, and the slurping, and the crunching, and the humming. He was distracted by the muddy boots and the messy hair. The pale eyes and the chewed nails. The frown and the smile. The grin and the chuckle and the laugh. He was mostly distracted, however, by the fact that one day (when the shop was rather empty, and there were plenty of seats to choose from) Sirius Black opted for the armchair opposite his own.

He didn’t say anything, after glancing up at the scene before him, instead he turned back to his book, hoping to hell that the boy opposite couldn’t see his blush, and equally hat Sirius wouldn’t turn his music so loud, it would be audible past his earphones. Sirius Black, however, did speak.

“You stare at me a lot.” Silence. How was Remus supposed to answer that anyway? “Like a lot a lot. I was watching in the reflection of the glass the other day, and you were staring at me for a minute. Like a whole real minute - which is sixty seconds and all. That’s a long time to look at one thing.” Remus knew his cheeks were burning up, and, having no idea what to do, he shoved his book in his bag, and sped from the café. In hindsight, it wasn’t the best option, seeing as he literally just ran away from the boy who’d been distracting him for the better part of a year - it definitely didn’t make him appear innocent to the charges.

Sirius arrived at the coffee shop once, once when passing by, because he was late to the bus that would drive him the thirty minute journey to his flat. It wasn’t his fault he’d noticed the quiet, golden-haired boy curled up in the corner and it wasn’t his fault he’d dropped his coffee in shock. (He’d blamed it on seeing a spider- much more manly than love at first sight.) It wasn’t his fault he had decided to skip the bus every day for the better half of a year, so he could stare at the boy, and it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t stop thinking about those bronzy eyes, or the bit lip. That oversized jumper, and the odd socks. The slight scarring over the left half of his face, and the silent chuckle that came with the turn of a page. So Sirius decided to do something about it.  
He knew full well that this boy had noticed him, hell, he’d caught Remus gazing in his direction more times than he could count. All he had to do was go over and talk to him. This did not go well, seeing as after less than three minutes, Remus was running from the shop.

Sirius sat for quite some time in that chair, hoping, willing the boy would come back. He prayed he hadn’t made it awkward, and that the boy wouldn’t find a new café to rest up in, without leather-wearing annoying creepers who sit down opposite him without asking permission. Sirius was spiralling, wondering how he’d made it this far in life, and how this boy must have thought him a complete weirdo-

“You’re right.” Sirius looked up to find the boy standing there, seemingly having snuck back in.

“What?” His mouth must have dropped open, idiot.

“I said you’re right.” Remus huffed, there was something accusatory in his tone. “You caught me staring at you for a minute - which is an actual long sixty-second minute.”

“Okay.”

“For you to know I was staring at you for a whole real minute, you must have been staring at me for a whole real minute. And what’s worse; you must have been counting.”  
“So…” Sirius would admit he was a little lost for words. It would appear that this boy (who suddenly seemed an awful lot more confident) was right. “So…you realised I like you too, and you came back for me?”

“No.” Sirius’s grin dropped. Way to shoot a mans ego. Remus lifted a finger and pointed to his beneath his own armchair “I left my shoes, and it’s raining out.”

Sirius was awestruck at this enigma of a boy, who just calmly pulled on his shoes, before moving back towards the exit. His hand was on the door when he sighed rather audibly. “I guess…since you admitted to liking me, you could ask me out if you want.”

A smirk played on Remus’s lips, and Sirius had never grinned wider as the other boy jotted his number in a messy scrawl. He pulled it from the taller boy, not even caring if he looked a little more than overeager. “It’s Sirius, by the way.”

“Remus.”


	2. the one with the text message

"Why the fuck am I so stupid?" Remus had made an irreversibly bad mistake. Remus had given his number to the hottest guy (He didn't really consider Sirius a 'guy' so much as an angel, or another kind of ethereal being, but he wasn't planning on voicing that view anytime soon, especially given the current circumstances.) he knew. In the cockiest fucking way possible.

"Remus." Who the fuck just says "Remus."? 

And what's more, it was him that gave his number away. He gave Sirius his number, meaning the ball was completely in Sirius' court. Not that he particularly minded, but it meant that What happened next was completely up to Sirius. Sirius? Who fucking calls their kid Sirius anyway?

It may seem insignificant, but one must also note that being a bookworm had always been rather an important factor to Remus, and it was his books that taught him so much about the way life ought to pan out. And Remus Lupin was not a fan of cliches. 

Clunky boots and leather jackets were a cliche. Stubbled chins and nail polish were a cliche. A bad boy picking up the quiet, bookish type in a coffee shop on a rainy day? That was the fucking abstract on every damn book in the 'Adult Reader' section of the library. (Not that Remus wandered there too often, he felt uneasy from all those middle age women's stares.) The important thing was that Remus Lupin had managed to walk straight into a trope, with his eyes wide open, and it was everything his thirty grand of debt was teaching him to avoid.

-

"Why the fuck am I so stupid?" He groaned, his face hot from the pillow he was trying to smother himself with. Lily, the designated friend raised an eyebrow slightly, though chose to ignore the fact that Remus' probable drawl was soiling her fresh linen. A friend in need meant she could probably reprioritise a laundry run for later, despite that germy feeling niggling on her mind.

"Seriously, Lils, that's a question. What am I supposed to do?"

"Well you don't do anything, dumbass." She sighed, teasingly, "You wait for him to text." She got up, letting the swivelling desk chair turn slowly in a state of limbo, with every intention of leaving the room. 

After a painstaking scout for the perfect friend, Lily had settled for Remus on account of two things. One; he could cook, and two; he didn't talk about his love life. This was not a good day for her.

"But what if he doesn't text?"

She sat back down. Apparently, it was going to be one of those days.

"What if he doesn't call, because he decides I'm not worth calling, but then I go to the coffee shop on Monday, and there he is? Am I supposed to just ignore him?"

Remus was a confusing one, to say the least.

"He came over to talk to you, right?"

"Yeah?"

"And he's been coming to the coffee shop to see you?"

A slight pause. "Yeah?"

Lily sighed, "Do you see what I'm getting at?"

Remus lifted his head slowly and turned to face her. His cheeks were flush, and his hair unruly. He was still wearing that grey-blue sweater, despite Lily's bedroom feeling about one hundred degrees, (though that could just be to do with the topic of conversation.) Remus had become friends with Lily for two reasons. One; her Obsessive Compulsive Disorder meant she was reliable on all accounts, and that, when living so very far from home, gave Remus' anxiety something to rely on, and two; she gave some fucking wise-ass relationship advice.

“Remus, you like this guy -” he began to interrupt her for some unknown reason. She wasn't letting that happen. “- Shuttit. You must like this guy, because you game him your fucking number, Not to mention you had that whole weird staring contest thing. It's been like four hours, how can you call something a mistake when nothing's even come of it yet?”

Remus knew she was right, but stubborn as he was, he'd deny it for all it was worth. 

“Let him text. Let him give you his number and let him take you to lunch or some shit. Right now, you only like him for his looks and his habits -”

“I do not!” Remus exclaimed, indignant. Neither dripping nail polish everywhere or kicking dirt on coffee tables were traits Remus enjoyed, and he wasn’t afraid to say so. The just liking him for his looks thing was a bit harder to explain - though why should he have to? It was only a crush.

“I'm just saying that -”

The beat up, out-of-date iphone chirped, and both on them froze. It wasn't him. That would be too cliche, and after all, Remus hated cliches. It didn't stop his hands from shaking, however, as he turned the screen over, to see a text from an unknown number;

_Hey, it's Sirius, from earlier. Fancy something to eat? I know this sick diner called felix’s off of the high street - will I see u there at 8? ;)_

Everything about the text was horrific. The mix of proper and improper grammar. The abbreviations. The fucking winky-face emoticon for fucks sake. It was clear Sirius wasn't an English student.

Still, those awkward teen-year nerves still washed over him as he sent his reply.

_Sure._

“Well?” Remus had almost forgotten he was still in the company of Lily. “Is it him?”

“Yeah.” He repliced, handing the phone over to her, so she could see the exchange of messages.

“His grammar is awful.” She laughed, before; “Felix’s, Really? On a first date?”

“Something wrong with it?” Lily wasn’t much of a foody, but she did know which culinary establishments didn't hit protocol.

“No, nothing -” She said quickly, clearly not wanting to put Remus off his desision. “It's just its over on Night Street - you know? Nightclub district - not a great place for a first date?”

Remus raised a weary brow. Too often had his expectations fallen flat, and he wasn't prepared for another goddamn morning of waking up to find his company gone. At this point, he'd rather no company at all.

“I'm going to go and get changed, okay?” He said cautiously. Lily was still sitting on the chair, and he knew that would be where she would stay for the rest of the evening. “Got any plans?”

“A quiet night at home, I think.” She said, smiling up at him as he rose to gently press a kiss on her forehead. He knew exactly what that meant, and knew better to ask.

“Call if you need anything, okay?”

Lily shrugged, still smiling. “Don't want to keep you from lover boy.”

Remus just stood there, quiet. “If you need anything.” 

She nodded, and he left the room, shutting the door gently behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHH! Look I updated I'm such a good girl! (I said I'd do a part 2 before the new year and...I mean, timezones, amiright? It has to still be 2017 somewhere...hahaa ahh. Sorry it's late, but what's this? Is it now an actual fic with a title and everything?! Woohoo!!
> 
> Funny story, it's currently 7:25AM, Monday 1st January 2018, and I’m writing this on my phone, on a friends couch after having slept round due to some bad decisions and a litre of Malibu!! Guess who kissed their ex? Haha euthanise me please. 
> 
> Please leave kudos and comments, they make my day! And find me on tumblr as @siriussass (unbetaed, all mistakes are my own)


	3. the one with the dive bar

So there he is, standing in the completely unromantic pouring rain, jumper tucked carefully into his semi-wash jeans. It’s a new jumper now; the colour of homemade caramel sauce, right after you’ve poured in the cream; when it’s all white and gooey. Remus likes it. He hopes Sirius does. His hair is slick to his forehead, and shoes pooled with little reservoirs of rainwater, and he is thoroughly not enjoying himself - yet he can’t step inside.

The bar, Felix’s, is just off the high street as Sirius said, down an alley called ‘Night Street’, and Remus thinks it fits perfectly. He makes a mental note to jot it down - perhaps he can slot it into his novel - it’s poetic, and he enjoys alternate parallelism. The sign is a neon red and it looks like the kind of American dive bar you see at the pictures; all brick and no windows. Definitely dodgy. There’s a chalkboard with the opening times, and just above that, another sign that reads in gold: YOUR JUST IN LUCK. Remus cringes at the lack of apostrophe. Definitely, definitely dodgy.

He thinks maybe Lils is right. He thinks maybe it was a set up. He thinks he shouldn’t go in. He thinks - but for once, he doesn’t think. Because sheets of rain are smashing like glass against him, and the headlights that keep rushing past are too bright, and maybe - just maybe - there’s a grin and a drink waiting for him. His feet lead him in.

The text said diner. This was not a diner. Yes, technically there were booths and raised tables, but there was also deafening music that Remus felt in his throat, and hazy red lighting, and sweaty bodies heaving at the bar - all wearing black and denim and plaid with long hair and studs everywhere. It was hell.

“Remus!” He’s vaguely aware that he’s being called, but can’t see or hear and his heart is thumping and his ears are cracking and the only sound is his breath but it doesn’t seem to matter how much he breathes because nothing is working and - “Remus, it’s me!” - and it is.

Sirius regretted it as soon as he sent the text. Why’d he choose Felix’s? Felix’s is where he might meet someone - there’s a certain kind of person that slopes ‘round there, and for Sirius to ask out someone not from there ought to be a good thing. Maybe it was an internal test. Maybe he was trying to scare this fucking book nerd to his wick - all or nothing. Felix’s was part of Sirius. That much was obvious.

And yet there Remus was, in some kind of cashmere jumper the colour of milky tea, standing flush under the spotlights, nose scrunched at the smell of smoke - accentuating those scars - and he didn’t fit. And he wasn’t the cocky Remus that burst back into the coffee shop. And he wasn’t the Remus that would smudge his orange highlighter on the side of his palm and immediately get up to wash it off. This was a new Remus, and he was kind of statuesque, in that ancient-vase-that-you-dare-not-touch kind of way, and he almost wanted to just stand, not talk, admire him from a distance. But this new Remus didn’t look happy, and that scared Sirius.

“Remus!” He calls, followed directly by “Remus, it’s me!” He places his hand on the boys shoulder, who turns quickly to face him, and he justs melts.

They take to a table, fiddling with their phones, until Sirius suggests they unplug and have a good time because everything is painfully stagnant, and  
the date begins how any date in any romance begins; there’s the awkward bumbling over what’s being ordered, and where to sit, and the “I’m not too hungry but you can eat” and the “Oh no, whatever’s cool” and Sirius just hates it all. He isn’t the dating type, and he certainly isn’t the dating Remus type, and everything he does just feels stupid. He’s stupid, so fucking stupid.

But Remus begins to smile when their two plates of chips arrive at the same time as the complementary table chips basket and there’s just fucking french-fries for days, and Remus is scrunching his nose at the amount of salt and vinegar Sirius uses, and Sirius is rolling his eyes as Remus opts for Mayo Lite instead of full fat.

And they don’t compliment each other. They’re not two pieces of a puzzle. They don’t match in anyway. The date is pleasant enough, but then Sirius mentions something vaguely political, and Remus tenses up and the air is still and awkward. The moment is saved by mention of degrees and hobbies and friend circles, but it’s the kind of date that doesn’t really work out great. It’s nice and exciting, but it’s new to Sirius. He doesn’t do this. He does sex. He does sleazy bathroom drinks and blowjobs at dimly lit bars. He can’t fuck Remus now, and yet that curiosity from the coffee shop seems to have fizzled out, and he’s confused. Is this what relationships are like?

They carry on. There’s a bit of drinking, and gigglish dancing, and fighting over the bill, and stepping outside for a smoke. Sirius raises a brow as Remus agrees to stand outside in the freezing rain for Sirius, and he lends the latter his hooded jacket as a thanks.

Remus smiles in the jumper. The date was odd, and he couldn’t tell how it was going until he was given the jumper. It was a cute thing to do, and he wondered why he’d been tongue tied all night, when really it had been a great time. And the rain was nauseating but he didn’t mind it, and he thought that maybe, just maybe, his stupid burst of confidence (meaning giving a random long-haired, ripped-jeaned, double-americano-drinking coffee shop guy his number on a whim) had been a good idea.

And then apparently, this is where Remus ruins it all with his utter ignorance.

Remus’ phone keeps buzzing in his pocket, and he knows it’s going to be something stupid like Quote of the Day or his Study Room chats, so he ignores it, and smiles gently to Sirius who is staring straight ahead. “So much for phones unplugged.” He says. Remus knows Sirius doesn’t mean it to come out bitter, but it does, and it stings a little, like soap in a paper cut. He doesn’t know why.

“Sorry -“ He begins, wanting to explain, because why wouldn’t he? “It’s complicated, I have this friend -“ but he’s cut off by his ringtone. It’s not his ringtone though, it’s the beeping one he hates, but Alice made him set, for emergencies. It rings its pattern of four twice through, before the caller hangs up, and Sirius raises an eyebrow at the lack of explanation.

Remus opens his mouth, then closes it again. Who’d disclose that kind of information on a first date anyway? Who does he think he is? He had a protocol; let the phone ring twice and hang up if it’s an emergency. No questions asked. Drop everything and get back home. And Remus can’t let a friend down, and he promised, so he does just that.

“I have to go.”

Sirius doesn’t know why he’s surprised. Remus obviously wanted an out from the moment he stepped into the bar. So he doesn’t say anything, and instead just watches Remus turn towards the main road, water splashing against his heels as he jogs into the mirage of headlights and streetlamps. And Sirius is left stood in the alley. Always left alone, and always left in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAAAAAAT???
> 
> I’m uploading on April 1st (pretty much) bc let’s be honest, this upload schedule is a fucking joke.
> 
>  
> 
> So yeah, the boys are at Felix’s (y’all get that, right? Like liquid luck?) on night street (wow original) and ugh things aren’t great, angst to come :o (within the next year haha lol) 
> 
> Comment who/why you think is ringing, and give me insp to write more :)
> 
> Also for the lovely anon who keeps messaging me, it’s a stylistic choice that it’s narrated with such long sentences, like seriously, Im getting a degree in creative writing, I can handle myself so please leave.
> 
> \- siriussass
> 
> ps. I’ve managed to lock myself from Tumblr, and their change-password links aren’t working, so if you enjoy the fic pls share it on there, bc I sure can’t :(
> 
> C u soon


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